


Shield-Brothers

by Elsajeni



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Community: hobbit_kink, Drabble Collection, Forbidden Love, Inspired by Music, Level of requitedness varies by drabble, M/M, Mentioned Canonical Character Death, Requited Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:00:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsajeni/pseuds/Elsajeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of music-inspired Thorin/Dwalin minifics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shield-Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a [music meme prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=13620413#t13620413) on hobbit_kink:
>
>> 1\. Pick a character, pairing, family, threesome or moresome you like.  
> 2\. Turn on your music player and put it on random/shuffle.  
> 3\. Write a drabble related to each song that plays. You only have the time frame of the song to finish the drabble; you start when the song starts, and stop when it’s over. No lingering afterwards!  
> 4\. Do ten of these, then post them.
> 
> Except that, well, haha time limits what are those? I finished exactly _zero_ of these within the allotted time. Not even Battle of Evermore, which 1) is six minutes long and 2) is one of the shorter drabbles. I am not a naturally fast person. 

**Song 1 — Elephant Love Medley, Moulin Rouge soundtrack, 04:13**

"Run away." Dwalin's voice is flat.

"Why not?" Thorin reaches out, catches at his hand. "We can't be together, not here. Not while Thror is king. But if we run—"

"And run to where? And once we've run, do what?" Dwalin sighs, pulls his hand back. "Thorin, you know my feelings. You know I would go with you if I could. But think, just for a moment."

Thorin swallows, gives a sigh of his own. "You're right," he admits. "We couldn't find work, not without being found out. And he _would_ search for us."

They don't speak of it again.

 

**Song 2 — Daddy Sang Bass, Johnny Cash, 02:23**

Kili has grown up knowing that his father is dead, that he will never have quite the same family as most of his friends. And he knows, too, that what family he does have is more than enough — that Mamma by herself loves him enough to count for two parents, and that adding Uncle Thorin's affection, and Fili's brotherly torment (for he is old enough, now, to see the love underneath the teasing), to that means he is better cared-for and better loved than many children who do have both their parents living.

Still, he has dim memories of another fatherly figure, another deep-voiced dwarf — remembers him lingering by the fire late into the night, telling him and Fili bedtime stories, watching them with their toy swords and roaring with laughter. But he was so little then, and he can't remember a face, or a name, only the feeling of warmth and love in their crowded little house, and the way the lines of worry faded from Uncle Thorin's face when the other dwarf was there.

_(This was before I completely gave up on the idea of time limits, so it's more obviously half-finished than the rest — it would have ended with Dwalin returning from many years of working away from Ered Luin, and Kili, now that he's older, starting to catch on to why Uncle Thorin seems so much calmer and happier when he's around.)_

 

**Song 3 — My Favorite Things, The Sound of Music soundtrack, 02:18**

"Dwalin."

"Something wrong?" Dwalin doesn't look up from his work, keeping his focus on the blade he's forging; the muscles stand out in his shoulders as he raises the hammer, and under other circumstances Thorin wouldn't be able to tear his eyes away.

He shakes his head, though, and brings himself back to the key point. "Dwalin. What is _that_?"

"What? It's old Vitr's order, don't you remember?"

"Not the sword. _That_." Thorin points, and finally Dwalin does look up, and follows his gaze.

And _flushes_. Now there's a sight. "Oh, that," he says after a moment. "Well. It's just — it's nothing, really."

"It's a cat. In _my forge_."

"Well," Dwalin says again, and shifts uncomfortably. "It's four cats, actually. Poor thing has kittens."

"Kittens!" And, indeed, now that he looks closer he can see more fuzzy little ears pricking up from within the nest of folded towels. "Dwalin—"

"They were starving, Thorin!" Dwalin bursts out, and looks at him with actual _pleading_ in his eyes. "Come on, it's not as if they're in the way. I couldn't just leave them."

Thorin groans, and rubs at the bridge of his nose, and says, "You know I can't say no to you."

 

**Song 4 — Two of Us, The Beatles (Let It Be... Naked version), 03:21**

Thorin spurs his pony forward, laughing, and holds the last biscuit over his head. "Come and get it, then," he calls back over his shoulder.

"You've had yours!" Dwalin complains, and Thorin can see him kicking at his own pony, trying in vain to get old Dozer (well-named for his temperament) to move faster. "Come on, you know how I love those — give it over!"

Thorin circles back around, pulls Mattie up alongside Dozer, close enough that he can lean over and whisper into Dwalin's ear, "Make me."

Dwalin laughs, and reaches out to pluck the reins out of his hand, drags him bodily off Mattie's back and into his own lap. "Maybe I will," he teases, shifting his grip so he has both Thorin's arms pinned and leaning in to let his whiskers tickle across Thorin's neck. "Or maybe I'll make you forget you're even holding it."

"Oh, _please_ try," Thorin says, grinning, and then he freezes, twists in Dwalin's arms to look back toward Erebor. "Do you smell that? Smoke?"

Dwalin sniffs the air, too, and peers up at the mountainside, and he is still watching when the first bright burst of dragon-flame appears.

_(Going on book canon here, where Thorin "happened to be outside" when Smaug came and thus survived. He does seem a little evasive about exactly WHY he was outside.)_

 

**Song 5 — The Battle of Evermore, Led Zeppelin, 05:52**   
_(writing Tolkien fic based on Led Zeppelin songs is almost cheating, isn't it?)_

Dwalin has passed many years in the service of the king — first in his youth, as Thror's guard and companion of his grandchildren; then, after Azanulbizar, the first to kneel before Thorin (and he remembers that with pride, how he served his king even before the rest of his people would recognize him); and now, he is grown old in the service of a third king, the first one for whom he has felt no love. Not that Dain has ruled poorly — he is just and noble, and Dwalin knows no dwarf more fit for the throne.

No dwarf still living, that is.

But he is the king's man through and through, and always has been, and so it is that, when the dark riders appear at the Gates of Erebor and make their demand — ask for news of _Baggins_ , and _Shire_ , and make it clear they will have either answers or battle — Dwalin rides in the first rank to face them.

Perhaps he will die in the king's service, today.

Perhaps this is the day he will return to _his_ king's side at last.

 

**Song 6 — I Walk the Line, Johnny Cash, 02:48**

Thorin knows his own charms — he owns a mirror, after all, and he is no fool. His face is fair and noble, his hair handsomely curled, his beard (at long last) long enough and thick enough to wear in a fashionable braid. And, of course, there is the matter of his birth — even were he grotesque, there would be those who sought his hand, or his company in bed, just to have the ear of the prince. So he is never surprised to be approached, or to hear himself whispered about in the lewdest of terms as he passes.

Yet he has never accepted such an offer. And each night, as he undresses and takes out his braids, he thinks, _Perhaps tomorrow_.

Perhaps tomorrow that offer will come from the one dwarf he would accept.

Perhaps tomorrow it will be Dwalin at last.

 

**Song 7 — Do You Want to Know a Secret, The Beatles, 01:59**

He walks Thorin back from the tavern, as usual, and takes on the task of wrestling him up the stairs of Dís's house, into the bedroom and out of his boots and onto the bed. Then he goes back downstairs, and takes the cup of water Dís offers him.

"You never get as drunk as he does," she says, sitting down on the couch and beckoning him to join her.

"Of course not," Dwalin says gruffly. "Someone has to watch out for him. Someone has to keep his head."

"Mm." She watches him drink for a moment, and then goes on, "And you never come home stinking of perfume, as he does."

Dwalin freezes for an instant, then bends forward, sets the cup down carefully on the floor. "No," he says, not looking at Dís. "I don't."

She reaches out to him, covers his hands with her own. "Dwalin," she says gently, "oh, Dwalin. You've guarded your secret a long time, haven't you? Will you never tell him?"

He closes his eyes, and lets out a long breath, and says again, "No."

 

**Song 8 — Back in the U.S.S.R., The Beatles, 02:43**

"Home," Thorin says, as if he's testing the word; then he throws back his head, and lets loose a great roaring laugh, and says again, "Home!"

"It's not much like I remember it," Dwalin says, looking around at the scorched walls and the dragon's filth, but he can't keep the grin off his face, and after a moment he whoops, sweeps Thorin up in an embrace that lifts him off his feet. "Home, Thorin, can you believe it?"

"Hardly," Thorin admits with another laugh, and then he stills, glances around at the room crowded with their companions and says, "Do you remember that little closet off the guards' chambers?"

_Quick, in here, before we're missed_ , Dwalin remembers, and _Durin's beard, these knots — they're your breeches, not a damned safe, can't you lace them a little looser?_ and _Oh, Mahal, Dwalin, oh..._

"I remember it very well," he says, a little hoarsely.

Thorin grins wickedly up at him. "Let's see if we can't find it again."

 

**Song 9 — Cactus, David Bowie, 02:55**

"What's this?"

"What's what?" Thorin asks, closing the door behind him. "Going through my things, are you?"

"It was in the bed," Dwalin says, and turns to face him, lets the soft fabric of the shirt unfold and hang down in front of him as if he's testing it for size. "Whose is this?"

Thorin pales, and reaches to snatch it out of his hands. "It's mine," he says, and of course Dwalin knows at once it's a lie.

"It's too big for you," he says, dodging back a step and measuring the shoulder-seam against his own breadth. "Nearly my size. Whose is it, Thorin?"

"It's none of your business."

"Oh?" Dwalin balls up the shirt, tosses it back onto the bed and stalks forward. "None of my business, when another dwarf has shared your bed? When he has left his own shirt behind, that certain that he would be invited back? Or did you keep it, as a trophy? Does it still smell of him?"

"It still smells of _you_ ," Thorin growls, and Dwalin freezes where he stands.

 

**Song 10 — Fortunate Son, Creedence Clearwater Revival, 02:21**

"What are you doing here?" the young guard sneers, looking him up and down. "Bit soft for this, aren't you?"

Thorin draws himself up, offended. "I am heir to Durin's throne, and I do not intend to stand idly by while it is threatened."

"Why not? You've stood idle through enough."

"This insolence—"

"Oh, _insolence_ ," the guard interrupts him with a laugh. "And you parading in here and expecting to lead this regiment when you've not fought a day in your life, that's not insolent in the least, I suppose."

"You know nothing," Thorin says through gritted teeth. "I have fought much greater foes than you, _guardsman_ , you who are so proud to have tried your pike against straw dummies. I could best you one-handed, I wager."

"Care to try it, then?" the guardsman says, and that's how it is that, ten minutes later, the prince is struggling to his feet with a much friendlier laugh and saying, "What's your name, guardsman? I could use a friend like you, to remind me of my place from time to time."

"Dwalin, my lord," the guardsman says with a grin, "at your service."


End file.
